[h1][b][i][color=olivedrab][center]Ansgar Staudinger[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

	[i]"Andrea! Kev! What the hell is going on?" [/i]

	"Lass! Tha' latest blast was from th' bridge! Git down t' the engine room, backup controls are 'ere an' ready! Ah'm on damage control! Doc, meet me t'ere! Everyone else, stand clear!"

	Ansgar had pulled on his full attire, including carrying the rebreather in one hand and damage control kit in the other. One could call it a tool box, but there were also supplies for sealing small breaches to the outside, locking down damaged components, putting out fires, as well as actual repair work. When it came to damage control, the man always tended to take the lead since, well, he was pretty much the best equipped person on board to actually go about being able to respond and prevent the situation from getting even more out of hand than it already was. The captain would likely want to have words with him later since, well, he hadn't told anyone that there was a backup set of controls in the engine room that'd he'd installed shortly after his hiring on. He'd opened them up the moment the next explosion had happened, and given his intimate understanding of the ship's layout, he was painfully aware of where the blast came from.

	Moving at full sprint, Ansgar was in his element, though when he rounded the corner and spotted the crumpled, unmoving form of Andrea on the wall opposite of the bridge. Kevej was there as well, and he looked far better off. Given the blast doors were sealed, well, that only confirmed his suspicions. A small miracle the blast doors worked, and he ignored the pilot's body as he hooked up an analysis device to the panel next to the blast doors, cursing under his breath. Completely ruined, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of even beginning to salvage or get the bridge back up and running without berthing or docking at all. He opened a direct comm to the Captain, not broadcasting this information over the ship wide comms. No need to get people panicked more than they possibly were already.

	"Lass, th' bridge is shot. Complete loss without dry dockin' th' boat. Andrea's down, reckon fer good. We'll know w'en doc gets 'ere. I'm movin' back t' t'e engine room after doc gets up 'ere. Ain' nothin' I can do 'bout this rig't now."

	The mechanic was compartmentalizing and locking away useless responses, including the panic that wanted to break out at the sight of the dead pilot. Sure, the captain could do the job and, sure, they didn't see eye to eye, but that didn't mean the man wished ill on the woman. Well, not seriously. Still, responding to death of crewmembers would come later, right now he was doing diagnostics on the rest of the ship systems while waiting for the closest this bucket of bolts had to a medical professional to arrive. He didn't attempt to interfere with the still form of the, now likely former, pilot. Even if she was alive somehow, he knew enough about serious injury that moving her would be a bad idea. How Kevej looked, well, he couldn't spare a glance right now. Too much information to process, too many problems to worry about. Like not getting shot out of the sky. He had half a hope the bastards would try to board them, oh he would get his pound of flesh out of these pirate bastards for undoing all this damn work he'd done getting this heap up and running proper.